A Selfless Pretense
by EscapingxXxReality
Summary: -"Being the best isn't all it's cracked up to be." -A collection of one-shots on Itachi and his introspective views on friends, family, the Akatsuki, and the clan. Because he deserves it.
1. TNT for the Brain

The first time Itachi had ever experienced the power of his clan's doujutsu, he had been merely six years old.

His father's eyes had been the ones to entrap him, the small black tomoes swimming in a pool of crimson.

It had been a type of punishment when Itachi had refused to eat the dinner is mother had made (he had always hated tofu; it was bland and boring to both look at and eat. He didn't want something so ordinary and mediocre to enter his mouth, much less sit in his stomach digesting for a few hours).

After just one look at the disgusting clump of white nothing on the table, Itachi had immediately excused himself, claiming Shisui had taken him to get something to eat earlier that day, and that he was still full.

Mikoto had said nothing as he stood and walked to the back to go to his room. But Fugaku could see the disappointment brimming at the edges of her eyes; everything she did she did completely for her family, and dinner was one thing that she prided herself immensely on. If both her boys seemed satisfied with the food set before them, she would always wear a smile of satisfaction while she ate, cleaned, and even washed the dishes.

But that evening, her face was stoic, her lips set in a thin line as her hands swept over the dirty plates left from dinner.

Fugaku had left his wife in the kitchen to seek out his son, only to find him cross legged on the floor of his room, a pack of sushi beside him, and one clutched between the chopsticks in his hand.

The young boy glanced at his father, mouth still open in ready for the awaiting sushi at hand, and felt his cheeks flush slightly at being caught in the lie.

He was going to say something- anything- to erase the condescending look his father was boring into him, but the air in the room quickly changed as a good amount of chakra was called upon, and red eyes cast the Uchiha heir into a genjutsu.

He felt a slight tremor shake at the chopsticks in his hands, and he turned to face the sushi that sat near his mouth, watching appalled as the rice bristled and squirmed, the small white grains suddenly appearing to be tiny insects- maggots! They swarmed over each other and began to ooze down the wooden sticks holding them until a few plump ones plopped onto Itachi's small quivering hand.

Utterly disgusted, Itachi quickly dropped both the chopsticks and the offending food onto the floor, horror twisting his attractive young features as the maggots continued to wiggle about near his left foot.

The bits of raw crab nestled in the middle of all this chaos bubbled and churned, one corner forming a claw, snapping open and closing threateningly. Another corner began to form what looked to be the head of a crab, but a good portion of it stayed unformed, making it appear as if it had been partially smashed with the butt end of a kunai. One eye blinked up at him, the claw still snapping, the rest of its chopped body making disgusting bubbling noises.

He felt his stomach tighten in nausea as the seaweed wrap unfurled itself and begin to flap back in forth in an erratic manner, like a fish caught on a fisherman's hook, and he scampered back in panic when it's twisted and hyper motions sent the still writhing maggots flinging up at him.

The feeling of small gooey bodies _touching_ him made all his muscles instinctively tighten, and when he caught a glance of something _white_ dangling in his _hair_, his stomach lurched as he was thrown into a state of close panic. His hands smacked at his clothes and pulled at his hair in a desperate attempt to ditch the small larvae.

When he breathed in he could both taste and smell the rotting flesh of crab meat, and he could already taste the subtle threat of bile in his throat.

Movement at his right enticed him to look, only to find the rest of the sushi still sitting in their pack behaving in a similar manner to the initial one he dropped.

A small pale hand clasped his mouth when his stomach clenched in a half-ass attempt at purging itself of its current contents when Itachi realized he had been so _close_ to _eating_ that!

All at once he found himself sitting cross legged on his floor, the sushi _intact_ and _still_ in the hold of the chopsticks.

He immediately dropped it, watching its still form on the floor with eyes that held both deep suspicion and barely restrained terror.

Itachi felt dazed. The memories of the monstrous sushi were too real to be considered dreamlike, but were obviously… what? _Not real?_

He had _seen_ it happen; had _felt_ the slimy bodies of the disgusting insects when they made contact with his skin; had _smelled_ the horrible deathly scent that had seeped into his being.

It was real. It _had_ to have been!

He stared blankly at the ruined food before him as his mind swam in a chaotic torrent.

Itachi felt as if his brain had just experienced a mental blast of crimson TNT, the chemicals and flames left in the wake of the explosion swimming in the folds and currents of his thoughts, twisting and charring them into something grotesquely surreal.

It was… frightening, having his own mind turned against him.

Swallowing down the last remains of nausea in his system, he fought against the demanding pull of paralysis, and turned to meet his father's still crimson gaze.

At seeing the unabashed shock in his son's slightly widened eyes, Fugaku's eyes narrowed in slight satisfaction, but he kept his expression completely blank and stern.

"Maybe next time you'll eat what your mother makes for you." He said simply, leaving the room with a swish of his traditional robes and a forceful slam of the sliding door. Itachi simply continued to stare at where his father had stood, his eyes focusing on the Uchiha crest sewn into his door that now replaced the image of his father's daunting red eyes.

Needless to say, Itachi never really did have a taste for sushi after that.


	2. First Impressions

Dull thuds sounded as sharp metal was repeatedly embedded into painted wood, the points securely sunk straight into the very middle of every target that stood before the young shinobi in training.

The boy's body was doubled over, hands on knees; his back rose and fell quickly with each shallow pant that revealed his exhaustion.

Though he had hit every target in near perfection, he still felt as if it wasn't enough. It was late, and he was pushing himself so hard that he would momentarily lose balance or see spots swimming in his sight, but he felt as if he was missing something. He hadn't felt like he'd accomplished anything all day.

Stubbornly, he withdrew two more kunai. The metal glinted in the moonlight that filtered through the thick foliage above him. A quick flick of the wrist sent both weapons whistling through the air, the tell-tale thud sounding their landing and the boy looked up to see they had both hit the center of two different targets.

He didn't understand it.

His aim was perfect, his chakra control flawless in its slight guidance of the weapons- so why did he feel like it was all a waste of time?

"Out a 'lil late, aren't ya kid?"

The boy turned to find an older shinobi emerge from the tree line. He adorned a chuunin vest and wore a confident expression on his face.

"…"

"You should probably go home; you look like you're about to keel over." The stranger tried again, walking closer to the panting form of the boy. The moonlight revealed more of the stranger's features; he was a young guy, not too much older then the boy himself. His short deep maroon locks framed his face and caressed the very top of his neck, but wasn't long enough to be held back in a ponytail. His eyes were navy blue- the same shade as the night sky.

"Can't." The boy replied curtly.

The stranger quirked an eyebrow in question. "And why not? I'm sure your mother must be worried sick…"

"Chuunin exams are being held next week. She understands."

"Ah, I see." He said, more to himself. "But… aren't you a little young for those exams…?" Recognition flashed in his eyes for a moment and he continued. "Wait… you're Fugaku's son, huh? Uchiha Itachi?"

At the sound of his name, Itachi straightened and gave a small nod of confirmation.

"Wow, I heard you're the up and coming shinobi to beat! I guess I'll finally have some competition soon!" He chuckled a bit before walking to where he could stand directly in front of Itachi, and extended his hand for greeting. "The name is Uchiha Shisui. I'm sure you've heard my name bouncing around the compound a bit."

Itachi took his hand in a firm shake. He had indeed heard of Shisui; Shunshin no Shisui, Shisui of the Mirage, the most skilled of the Uchiha clan.

Shisui leaned down a bit, his hand shielding his mouth from the side as if he were about to tell a secret. "Honestly, not all the things you hear are the truth. But the ones about my luck with women… you can bet your ass those aren't just tall-tales!" He winked a deep navy eye for emphasis.

Itachi couldn't help but chuckle a bit at this- he had never even heard mention of Shisui being slick with the ladies.

"Heh, so what are you doing then, Itachi?" Shisui asked, straightening a bit and looking critically at the hammered targets before the two of them with a hand on his waist.

Itachi shrugged helplessly. "I don't know anymore. It all just feels like a waste of time."

The older man looked at him, at the targets, then back at Itachi again.

"I know what you mean… and I know exactly why."

The young shinobi glanced curiously at Shisui, his questioning dark eyes urging him to elaborate.

"…It's easy really. You need more of a challenge." He walked over to the targets and began pulling out the embedded kunai one by one. "After a while, simple exorcises like these begin to mean next to nothing. I'd say- whoa!" He grunted, clasping a certain kunai with both hands and lifting a foot onto the target to give himself more leverage against the stuck weapon. It finally came free, and Shisui stumbled back a bit and eyed the newly liberated kunai in his hand while muttering something along the lines as 'He must have a strong arm…'.

"Anyways," He continued, collecting the rest quickly before approaching the stationary younger Uchiha with the kunai. "I'd say it's about time you practiced one-on-one with someone else- just to change things up a bit."

Itachi took the pro-offered weapons, then looked back up at Shisui with critical eyes.

"And… you're volunteering?"

Shisui smiled what could only be considered a charming smile.

"Yeah. All you gotta do is hit me. The instant you draw blood, the exorcise is over."

"Hn." His grunt held amusement in it. This didn't sound hard at all.

"Go ahead." He urged in a playful tone. "Challenge yourself."

Itachi opened his mouth to retort the overly-confident Uchiha before him… only to find the man no longer standing there. He sensed chakra to his left, and found Shisui to be leaning smugly against the trunk of a tree at the very edge of the clearing.

_He's fast._ Itachi mused to himself. _He has a formidable reputation, but we'll see how challenging Shisui of the Mirage really turns out to be._

He flung one of his kunai in Shisui's direction, and two more at either side of him to catch him when he dodged. All three collided with the bark of trees instead of a body.

Amazing. Itachi hadn't even seen him move. He had just… disappeared.

Deciding he would indubitably have a better chance with his bloodline activated, he quickly called upon his sharingan, and saw the world around him become more acute and clear as his iris' bled red.

Shisui was behind him about two kilometers. Without even turning around, Itachi sent a kunai flying in the other Uchiha's direction, and an array of its brother's followed in a slightly adjusted path following Shisui's quick movements. But even as Itachi anticipated Shisui's next movement and had a kunai intercepting that path, Shisui still managed to be ahead of the projectile.

When Itachi ran out of kunai at hand, he used his own speed to collect his previous throws and continued to send them Shisui's way.

Both boys were a blur amongst the clearing, each quietly concentrating on their goals; the only sound was the muted push of feet as they made impact with the ground, and the never-ending whistling of kunai searing the air- but never hitting, never even scratching flesh.

Itachi was beginning to get a bit frustrated. His aim was precise; his timing flawless. His eyes kept up with Shisui's impossibly fast movements, but Itachi's arms couldn't. Every time, his kunai would miss by a fraction of an inch. He even caught the very end of Shisui's curious maroon hair once, and when he retrieved one of his kunai, he found it had snagged a bit of the dark fabric of the shirt underneath Shisui's chuunin vest.

But Shisui himself was impossible to hit. Itachi was beginning to think the man had something else up his sleeve, like some sort of jutsu that allowed him to remove pieces of himself that were in danger of being scratched.

He could have sworn a few of his throws had been impossible to avoid.

Itachi's body had already been worn down from an entire day of non-stop training, so since he saw that the long range throwing of kunai didn't seem to be working all that well, he decided he would go for a different approach.

He stood stock still in the middle of the clearing, his sharingan watching closely as Shisui literally ran circles around him in a blur of forest green and deep maroon.

His trained eyes caught the slight zig-zag of Shisui's running pattern, and he smirked as a plan formulated in his young mind.

If he couldn't get Shisui of his own volition, he would just have to manipulate Shisui's movements to his liking.

He shifted his remaining weapons so there were two kunai held in each hand. In an instant his left hand sent both its weapons flying parallel to each other, and with a flick of the right wrist, a third followed soon after. The last one collided with one of the first, altering its projectile path slightly. Shisui found himself trapped by the two whizzing kunai, and had no choice but to alter his own path and run in between them to avoid being hit.

Calling upon his own speed, Itachi moved to intercept Shisui's path with both arms extended behind him, only to run slightly past it.

Smirking in his small victory and feeling slightly lucky at Itachi's miscalculation, Shisui continued forward and passed Itachi from behind. When he made it to the other side of the clearing, he turned to see that Itachi just stood idly where Shisui had passed him, looking at the older shinobi expectantly.

Shisui's smile faltered when he felt a slight stinging sensation on his left cheek. He raised a hand to it, and drew it back only to see blood smeared on his first two fingers. His eyes shot up to inspect the lone kunai still held in his younger companion's hand: sure enough, the dark metal blade was stained with small drops of crimson.

His smirk was back in place when he realized Itachi had purposefully passed through his path so that Shisui would run right into the extended kunai on his own accord.

"Heh. Smooth move, kid." Shisui congratulated, a bit sheepish from having actually lost their little game. He came to stand in front of Itachi before questioning, "Are you sure you even need to take the exam? I'd say if you pulled off a stunt like that again, they would grant you title of Chuunin right here and now."

"So, you think I've got nothing to worry about next week, then?" Itachi asked, a hint of a smile on his face. He had never been one to doubt his own abilities; he was pretty sure he had that exam in the bag regardless. But to hear it from someone as admired as Shunshin no Shisui?

He definitely wouldn't mind the praise.

"Hell kid. I wouldn't worry at all about you when it came to something as mundane as the Chuunin Exams." He clasped a comforting hand on Itachi's shoulder. "But what I _do_ gotta worry about is you taking my title as one of the best Uchiha out there! I can't have _that_ happen, now can I?"

"Heh." Was Itachi's amused grunt. He was beginning to like this Uchiha Shisui. He could no doubt learn much from him, and grow as a shinobi. Not to mention, Shisui made him feel at ease. He didn't feel like he had to prove himself, because Shisui knew how it felt to have everyone carry such high expectations for him.

Itachi felt that he could reach his own potential around Shisui- more then anything, he felt he could relate, and possibly even confide in the older Uchiha.

"I guess from now on, I'll have to keep a _close_ eye on you, Uchiha Itachi." Shisui's smirk was friendly and comforting, and his quick wink only served to reinforce the playfulness of his tone.

After that, the two were practically inseparable.

**xXx**

**Heh, I don't know why, but I picture Shisui as being really cocky and outgoing; maybe because it's such a big contrast to Itachi's personality.**

**I hope that the small fight scene was easy enough to follow…**

**Thanks very much for reading! Leave a review to tell me what you thought, yeah? **


	3. Roles

**I was listening to P.O.D's song "Thinking About Forever" in the middle of the frickin' night, and this idea just kind of filtered into my head... and stuck there, demanding to be written before I fell asleep. So I gave in, grabbed a monster from the fridge, and stayed up 'till like five in the morning to write this...**

**I'm actually really proud of this one. I hope you guys agree it was worth the grouchy hell I went through the next morning! Haha. **

**xXx**

The earth trembled from beneath sandaled feet. The buildings lining the once peaceful streets of the small civilian city rumbled, tiles shaking free from the roofs, and the unstable wood forming balconies and posts toppled to the dirt ground. The narrow streets were echoing with horrified screams as men tried to save their valuables from the rubble, and women scooped their children into their worried arms.

Every moving body was streaming south of the street- towards the nearest exit out of the village.

And amidst all this chaos, one body strode determining forward, against the current of mindless frantic shoving bodies that ran in the opposite direction. His body was straight, rigid, on guard- other then this, he showed no appearance of being fazed what-so-ever by the havoc that swarmed around him.

Another tremor ran beneath him- what could only be the result of his partner's extraordinary chakra. He could hear the gurgled laughter of a man who truly enjoyed engaging in violence, and he could only imagine the strewn mangled bodies and bloodied sand that would meet his sight just around the corner.

Pein had ordered the assassination of one of his previous informants who had gone traitorous. The man had been recently appointed as the leader of the somewhat prosperous village, and Itachi could only surmise that the power had gone to his head and transformed him into a blind fool who figured he was powerful enough not only to _betray_ the Akatsuki, but to think that he was now beyond their reach.

The closest pair at that time had been Itachi and Kisame, and so on Pein's orders they had taken a detour from tracking the nine-tails to seek out and eliminate this small-time traitor.

Itachi figured it was probably a good thing he and his partner were assigned to this mission; Kisame was a man who thrived off of excitement ridden violence, and Itachi had denied him that small joy for a while now.

_After all, _the red eyed man mused as he glanced at his broken and ravaged surroundings. _His moves stand out far too much. We can't attract attention at every fight we get into._

Kisame hadn't complained at all at the lack of bloodshed, though his recent solemn attitude was a hint to his partner that he had just been grudgingly biting his tongue.

So to make up for it (and to quench his partner's bloodlust for at least a few more days), Itachi had allowed Kisame to go all out, claiming he was tired from his last encounter with Jiraiya, and that Kisame would have to take on the traitor himself.

The ex-swordsmen of the Mist had been ecstatic, at best.

Itachi kept his breathing even, his eyes level and focused straight ahead of him.

Away from the frightened faces blurring past him.

Away from the haphazardly strewn bodies (both young and old, women and men) that were victims of Kisame's bold and outlandish attacks.

Itachi didn't approve of the slaying of innocents… but he had no right to stop Kisame; especially when Pein had emphasized making sure the bastard of a traitor felt the severity of his actions before he died- what better way then to watch his beloved city wither and die as its citizens were cut down in cold blood?

But still… the Uchiha couldn't help but see it as a useless, needless, _mindless_ show of chaos and calamity.

Most of the people of this village had no part to play in their leader's unforgivable actions. Their deaths… well, they weren't deserving of them.

A burst of an insurmountable portion of chakra became present, and all at once Itachi knew Kisame had used one of his favorite jutsu- Suiton: Bakusui Shoha- to level the playing field with an entire lake's worth of water.

_Hn. The shinobi that fool hired must be formidable for Kisame to resort to this. _Itachi thought to himself, even as he concentrated his own chakra into his feet and lunged off the ground to the balcony of one of the few buildings that still stood completely intact.

Just as his feet hit the deteriorating wood of the balcony railing, a torrent of water rushed around the corner, waves cascading over waves towards the frantically running people trying to escape it. It was frothy, the tips pure white as they engulfed everything they touched, like a ravage dog foaming at the mouth.

A shrill ongoing scream rang in Itachi's ears, and he peered though long raven locks to spot a small boy- nothing more then a toddler, really- sitting in the dusty, debris ridden streets, his small chubby arms outstretched at the crowd of people as they became more and more distant.

His mother must have left him in favor of saving her own life.

_Left him. A small, helpless child. Doomed to the cold grip of raging water, his life snuffed out before he even got the chance to live…_

Crimson eyes looked from the screaming child to the seething rapids quickly approaching the small, fragile body.

Before the skilled shinobi even knew what he was doing wind was whipping his hair back, away from his face. Feet collided with the hard ground, legs pumping hard across the street. Strong arms scooped up the small body, then, just as the first droplets of water soaked into the silk of his heavy coat, he was in the air again, his lithe legs kicking off the nearest building to propel his body over the street as the surging element greedily swallowed everything below.

Itachi landed gracefully back onto the balcony railing. The pure power and speed of the water racing below him was so deafening it overshadowed all other sound, blocking out even the terrified wails of the small child clasped in Itachi's right arm.

At the thought of the boy he just saved from the hungry rapids below, Itachi turned his head slightly to inspect the small body clinging to his coat; crimson eyes widened just a fraction in surprise to find that the kid wasn't crying.

His small mouth was slightly agape, his blue eyes widened in awe as he took in the features of his savior.

The two stared at each other in silence, Itachi feeling slightly more and more awkward as he tried to analyze and rationalize his spontaneous action.

What if Kisame or maybe even Zetsu (Kami knows that plant could be _anywhere_ and _everywhere_) had seen him? How would this contrast with his otherwise emotionless and ruthless image? What if his entire façade had been jeopardized by this one small instant of heroism?

Noting his small ward's original mother had probably been swept away in the man-made current (and if she had truly abandoned the child in the first place, Itachi would have found himself unable to return the kid to the selfish woman, regardless) his sharingan scanned the area coolly, spotting a group of about five people huddled on the roof of one of the houses a block over.

Not knowing what else to do with the kid he held, he jumped across the gaps between buildings and houses with the grace fitting for a dancer until he reached where they crouched, arms and hands grasping each other like it was the last time they would hold another person.

As he got closer, he realized it was a family; the man held his wife and his oldest daughter in both arms, and the women clutched her two youngest daughters to her chest in a protective manner.

When the cloaked man suddenly appeared before them, the father was on his feet in an instant, his fists up, ready to fight for- and ultimately, to die for his family.

A small stoic shake of the Nukenin's head reassured the man that he was not there for a fight. Itachi shifted, lifting his cloak a bit to reveal the rescued toddler, his small body still clutching Itachi's form, tiny fingers entangled and wrapped into the mesh of his undershirt.

The woman's eyes widened in understanding, and she, too, rose, stepping closer to him with her arms slightly outstretched, ready to take the baby and comfort it in her motherly embrace.

The Uchiha would have gladly handed the baby over, but the child seemed to have other plans. When Itachi attempted to pull the child away from himself, tiny fingers only tightened around his mesh shirt, grasping a bit of skin as well. Bright blue eyes looked up at him, and Itachi immediately recognized the emotion swimming in them.

It was fear. Fear at being left behind again; fear of losing everything he knew.

The stoic man began to feel the tell-tale burn of anger spreading in his chest. Something so utterly pure and new to the world should not have to endure the course feeling of an emotion as raw and overpowering as fear, and the Uchiha found himself wanting to protect the undeserving child from experiencing it- or any other emotion too trying for his young age- again.

He could feel the sudden urge to protect pulling and tugging at the insides of his stomach, and the undiluted _need _to do so was so staggering it startled Itachi, and he again tried to escape the grasp of the child, almost desperately prying away the small chubby fingers from his clothes. A small desperate whine escaped the toddler when he felt himself being ripped from his savior, and as soon as Itachi was completely free of the kid's tiny hands, a terrible scream erupted and Itachi found himself wondering how a tiny body could make such an ear-splitting sound.

The child continued to scream, even as he was nestled into the warmth of the women's arms, her soft voice whispering and cooing in an attempt to settle the boy down.

The Uchiha stood, hesitating. Noticing the slightly unsure look in his posture, the mother spoke, her voice soft, loving.

"We'll take care of him." She assured. "You saved his life; now we will nurture it." Her eyes shined with sincerity, and Itachi heard himself speaking before he even realized he had opened his mouth to answer her.

"Arigatou."

She merely smiled, and bent down to introduce her daughters to their new baby brother.

As Itachi leapt away from the scene, he could hear the low baritone of the man's voice as he hovered over the toddler as well.

"…I've always wanted a son."

The man's words continued to echo within the raven haired prodigy's head despondently, triggering a vaguely familiar hopelessness to ferment within his hollow heart.

xXx

Eventually the water subsided, and Itachi decided it would be better for him to wait outside of the village for his partner.

When Kisame's huge bulk suddenly appeared at Itachi's side, the shorter man glanced up to gauge his partner's mood, determine how good a fight it was, and how long it would be until Kisame needed another one like it.

As it turned out, Kisame was facing Itachi as well, regarding him in a different manner.

Itachi shrugged it off, not really interested in the curious look he was being given.

"You've made a mess here. We need to leave before others arrive."

The blue Missing-nin did not reply; instead he quietly followed his partner as he made a dash into the dark cover of the forest.

The two were completely silent for the entire night. Itachi was rather used to silence, but even this one seemed… heavier somehow. Kisame was usually the one who would often make small talk, just for the sake of hearing words.

But that night was different. The Mist shinobi stayed completely silent, only speaking when he volunteered to keep watch for that night, then falling into his uncharacteristic reserve once again.

The next morning as the two set out in a muted travel, Itachi noticed his partner seemed to be in deep thought- as if contemplating something.

"Itachi."

The crimson-eyed man was beginning to think that he had seen what had happened the other day.

"Eh… I uh, hope you don't mind my asking… but…"

Yeah. He had definitely seen _something._

"..Why did you save that kid?"

"…"

"I mean… uh… I'm not going to go around telling everybody that you've gone soft. Heh, even if you _had_ suddenly grown a heart, that doesn't make you any less dangerous, you know? I was… just curious, is all."

"…"

Kisame sighed deeply, ripping his eyes off the stoic face of his partner and deciding to look anywhere but at the man beside him. He hoped he hadn't offended or angered him in any way. Even after all the years of working with the Uchiha he had never once seen him lose his temper, and he was sure he would never be able to figure out how that genius mind of his worked, or what would even be bad enough to set the emotionally-void shinobi off in the first place.

But _damn!_ Ever since he had witnessed his partner handing over a toddler (_so gently too, as if he was afraid any real amount of force would break the small being)_ to a few survivors of his powerful suiton jutsu, the blue man just couldn't get his mind off it.

But Itachi seemed adamant about dropping the subject, so Kisame did- albeit grudgingly. He swore if he ever figured out the enigmatic man walking beside him, he would more then likely go insane.

Itachi, on the other hand, couldn't let the question go so easily.

_Why? Why __**did**__ he save that child?_

Itachi was no stranger to death; he couldn't escape the fact that many were denied life even by his own hands. Even those who were otherwise innocent.

_So __**why**__?_

The day passed around him, the sky darkening into a brilliant shade of scarlet that rivaled the hue of his own eyes. Life bustled around them as they finally reached another small village, and he could hear Kisame beside him talking to a man about getting a room at the hotel, but none of the words would register.

It was only until the dead of night, when Itachi found himself unable to sleep and opted instead to stand out on the balcony in the cool night air wearing nothing but his dark pants, that Itachi finally came up with the reason.

As he looked back at what had transpired between him and the child the other day, he noticed how easy it had been to hold the child; how snugly the small body had lied in his arms; the comfort he felt as the warmth of such and innocent being emanated and seeped into his own body; the urge he had to shield the soft delicate skin from even the icy bite of the wind as he leapt through the air.

And then there was how the small boy had looked up at him with _adoration_ and _trust_…

He knew now. He had saved that child because deep down inside- down where he had buried himself, smothered his emotions into silence so he could take on the role of a cruel cold-hearted criminal and detestable older brother- he knew he still longed for the simple pleasure- the undeniable _luxury_- of having a family.

Of having children of his own. Daughters he could love and protect; sons he could teach and sew the virtues of loyalty and determination within. Children he could watch grow, leaving their pure, innocent states to become formidable shinobi, or even doctors, teachers- someone he could be proud of, knowing he had a hand in raising them- in _bringing_ them into the world. To have someone look up to him, ask him for advice, come to him for protection- such things that were a father's _responsibility_.

At the realization, his chest swelled, choking him in emotion never to be experienced- suffocating him with the knowledge that he could never be allowed to consummate the gift of having a family of his own.

All that had been taken from him the moment he had been faced with a decision no one should ever have to confront. The very _instant_ Konoha had asked him to betray his clan- had made it a _mission priority_- he was denied any chance at a normal life.

But the Uchiha found he didn't hate Konoha for stealing away that right. He had done what he'd done _for_ Konoha- to protect the families already dwelling and thriving within the village. He knew he couldn't blame them.

He knew he couldn't even point an accusing finger at the clan. When they had formed the coup d'etat, they had no intention of ruining their kinsmen's life- if anything, they had figured once they took control of Konoha, all their clansmen would benefit from a _better_ life.

As selfish as their action had been, it hadn't intentionally been to hurt Itachi.

So the man stood silently captured by the comfort of the night air, finding he had no one to blame for his misfortune, and surprised to uncover that he didn't _want_ to blame anyone.

_After all,_ he thought, a small selfless smile forming on his serene features. _I may not ever know how it feels to be a father, but my actions have caused fatherhood to be a priority in Sasuke's life. At least he still has the chance to experience such an important role. I'll have to leave the rebuilding of the clan and the return of honor and integrity to the Uchiha name to him, now._

Itachi had given up his own happiness for his little brother, so that one day **he** could find happiness.

And it comforted the silent man to know that he was okay with that.

That was the role of a big brother- a role that Itachi full-heartedly embraced and would devotingly carry out until his death.


	4. Raven

**So, this actually started with me idly reading Edgar Allen Poe's well known poem "The Raven", and reading several different interpretations of it. One in particular caught my eye; it said that the raven "illustrated the self-torture the narrator exposes himself to". I found that interesting (and of course immediately thought of poor Itachi), and began to wonder what else a raven may represent. This idea just kind of snowballed from there. *rolls eyes***

**xXx**

Stinging embers and singed vegetation were left in the wake of the destructive Goukakyuu no Jutsu as it barreled its way towards the blue man situated across the field. Despite his impressive size, the man was deceptively quick, and was easily able to avoid the giant ball of fire. His hands flew while forming specific seals in quick succession, but no matter how fast he could form the seals needed- even if his hands become nothing but a _blur_- he knew his opponent would be able to read each and every one.

And Itachi could. It was because of this that he knew what jutsu his partner was planning to release, as well as exactly how to avoid it.

Itachi's lithe body twisted to avoid the first water torpedo, than dropped quickly to the ground before launching himself into the air, effectively missing both the second and third liquid projectiles. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Kisame was there, bearing down on him with the monstrous Samehada. A single kunai was just enough to deflect the blow, and a second kunai hidden in the sleeve of his left hand drew a ragged cut of crimson across the larger man's chest in his moment of vulnerability.

Kisame didn't even wince at the open wound. Instead he kicked out- forcing Itachi to retreat a few feet away if only to miss the thick leg- and then hefted his blade up again for another swing.

The young prodigy raised a single defined eyebrow at the move as he noticed his partner was increasingly lacking in technique as the spar went on.

When the blue-tinged man had approached Itachi earlier requesting a quick and friendly match, Itachi had assumed it was because of the fact that the leader had assigned the two of them to the task of collecting funds for the organization- a job that had previously belonged to Kakuzu, but had been unattended to the week following his death. These new orders of course meant a 'lack of action', as Kisame had pointed out several times already. Such an element was not a necessity for someone like Itachi, but a man who craved violence like a drug- thrived off it, even- like Kisame, had no doubt been highly affected by its absence.

While Itachi took this opportunity to further perfect his use of subtleties while fighting (such as inconspicuously replacing himself with a bunshin sometime during the fight to see if his partner would catch on to the antic), Kisame obviously saw this as nothing more then a way to release all his pent-up restlessness and let off some steam.

The fact that he was beginning to shirk all jutsu in favor of forceful bodily attacks only served to prove this to Itachi.

The stoic man watched silently from the shade of a tree, almost amused as his partner swung, punched, and kicked at nothing; Itachi's bunshin stood stock still in the middle of the field, allowing the genjutsu to play out.

A triumphant smirk broke out on the ex-swordsman's face as he swung Samehada in what appeared to him to be a direct hit. Even from across the field, Itachi could hear the frustrated growl the man let out next as the downed image of Itachi evaporated into dozens of flapping ravens.

"Damn it." The large man grumbled as he regained his grip on his blade and turned to the bunshin still standing in the middle of the field. "I thought we agreed on no genjutsu?"

His response was the sharp tip of a kunai resting just between two lumbar vertebrae.

"I found it unnecessary to use the energy required for taijutsu in this spar."

As he returned his kunai to its rightful place and his bunshin disappeared in a cloud of smoke, he heard Kisame mumble a response. Something akin to "lazy bastard", if he had to interpret it.

"Besides, you obviously need more practice against genjutsu- it should not take a man of your caliber so long to realize he was ensnared in an illusion."

"That's because I trusted you _wouldn't_ use it, like you had said." Kisame gave a toothy smirk. "Taking you at your word was my mistake, I suppose."

The black haired man gave his partner a sidelong glance to ascertain his facetious tone.

"Nevertheless, you should be more attentive to your surroundings."

Kisame merely nodded his head in confirmation as the two headed out of their temporary training ground and back to the hotel they had booked for the night.

Just as the pair had almost reached the rather run-down inn, Itachi broke their momentary silence.

"You should probably do something about that, first."

Confused, Kisame followed the direction of the younger man's crimson eyes, and saw that they led to an equally crimson stain soaking the front of his cloak.

"Ah, shit. I forgot about that." The man quickly patted his body down in search of bandages, and when it proved futile, his eyes lingered on a small supplied shop just across the dirt road.

Glancing quickly at his partner, he saw that the Uchiha was already making his way to a nearby dango shop to wait for him. Kisame let out a dark chuckle; he never would have guessed a man as ruthless as Itachi would enjoy something as simple and sweet as dango.

But then again, the man seemed full of contradictions.

He was known for slaughtering his entire clan without blinking an eye, and yet throughout their entire partnership, Kisame had yet to see Itachi mercilessly kill anyone unless there was no way around it. And Itachi was very good at finding a way around things.

He claimed to have severed all ties to Konoha, but whenever the two of them happened to be in the heart of Fire Country, Kisame would catch small glimpses of the younger man staring in the direction of his old home village. If he didn't know any better, he would even label such instances as _longingly. _

The shark-like man could freely admit to himself that he didn't understand his young partner in the least, and probably never would.

When Kisame joined Itachi in the small dango stand with his newly purchased bandages, he found that the man hadn't even touched the colorful treats set before him yet; instead, his attention seemed to be fixated on a rather large black feather laying intrusively on their table.

The ex-mist nin looked from the obsidian feather to his partner, and back; for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what was so damn interesting about the thing.

"That's a… uh… crow's feather, isn't it?" He asked nonchalantly as shifted out of his cloak and began to wind the bandages around his chest.

"…Raven."

Beady eyes flicked up in slight interest at the fact that his partner had deemed the subject worthy enough to correct him, before shifting his eyes back down to his wrappings to continue. "Er… right. Ah, that reminds me- you often use ravens in your genjutsu, don't you?"

"Hn."

"….Why is that, anyway?" It's not that Kisame could say he actually cared, but Itachi's earlier response made him curious to the answer, none-the-less.

Itachi glanced up to see his partner almost completely absorbed in working the bandages across his chest, before allowing his head tip back slightly and his eyes to drift close.

His mind immediately took him to a place he consciously repressed, but which was somehow always able to creep back and haunt him in sleep some nights.

There he found himself looking up at an impossibly big world through the eyes of a helplessly small boy- around the age of four years old- standing in the midst of a hellish reality more reminiscent to that of an appalling nightmare.

Dead bodies. Strewn as far as his wide, disbelieving eyes could see. Most lacked heads, arms, legs- the missing appendages would be impossible to tell apart from the masses of others in which they laid with. All sorts of organs never meant to see the light of day spilled from gaping holes of gnashed and severed abdomens. Intestines were strewn about its body, strangling their owner more often then sitting dormant within their respective vessels like they should have been.

And the blood…

Itachi had never seen the fluid in such abundance before. He was practically swimming in it from where he stood. The grass was definitely greener on the other side.

But these were just glimpses of the chaos that suffocated him with its proximity- it was all he could do to see through the waves and torrents of flapping onyx wings and shimmering obsidian bodies. They swirled around him, their black bodies blocking out what little sun fought through the charcoal grey above with dark feathers coated and polished in the blood of lifeless warriors.

They screeched and squawked in insane glee as they dove down into the sea of the dead; their sharp beaks tore and ripped at already abused flesh. They watched him with eyes as red as the blood dribbling from their grotesque beaks, as if deciding if he would be as tasty as the feast of fallen shinobi before them.

They were countless- infinite- in number. Their masses pulsed and swarmed above him like angry clouds, creating a storm of death and decay; chaos and calamity…

He had never seen death before; that day he had seen far more then any child should ever have to see.

Such a creature could never be associated with anything other then death in his young mind.

xXx

A thirteen-year old Itachi stepped silently into his dark house.

He had just finished his first A-rank mission as an ANBU Captain.

It had been a success. As a matter of fact, it had gone so well that Itachi had been able to bring his team back one week earlier then planned.

This meant his father had not been expecting him, and was in bed sleeping instead of staying up waiting to grill him on how it went- something Itachi was infinitely grateful for at the moment.

He drifted into his room soundlessly, more closely resembling a ghost in contrast to the tired and drained zombie he felt like. He quickly removed his mask first- a cat, the default for anyone who did not specify a certain animal.

Un-strapping the arm guards came next as he padded over to a barren table in the far corner of the room. The shadow of his silhouette caught his exhausted eye, and he found himself staring at the reflection in the mirror in front of him.

The blood (none of which was his) was the first thing to catch his eye (though it in itself did not affect him in any way. He was a shinobi, and blood was an integral part of the role.) His face was devoid of it, thanks to his mask, but a good portion of the front of his uniform was splattered in the crimson substance; it dripped in rivulets down his forearms and across his fingers, before creating a small pool on the wooden floor. His obsidian hair gleamed in the filtering moonlight with it-

… _dark feathers coated and polished in the blood of lifeless warriors…_

-and Itachi resisted the urge to wipe away the drop of vermillion that escaped a strand of his bangs and began to make a vivid trail of gore across his pale and otherwise clean forehead. It dipped with the curve of his nose, tracing its path just along the tip of his right eye, violently accenting the similarity between its own hue and that of the crimson of his still activated sharingan-

… _they watched him with eyes as red as the blood dribbling from their grotesque beaks…_

-before continuing down his ashen cheek, its path making it seem more like a tainted tear then the stolen life-fluid of an enemy.

The young captain continued to stare blankly at his reflection, shaken by the similarity his own features seemed to share with that detestable fowl.

But was he really any different? He used a sharp kunai instead of a jagged beak; lethal shuriken in the place of malignant talons. But they shred and tore flesh all the same.

If anything, he was worse then the black bird. A raven simply devoured and disposed of already lifeless bodies; but he… he was the one who produced them- who turned a fully functional and living body into nothing more then an empty and cold shell of what it had been.

Like the raven, his own presence was an omen- a sign of the bloodshed and bedlam to be found…

The next morning, after he and his team had debriefed with the Hokage, Itachi stayed in place as the rest of his comrades trickled out the door behind him.

The Sandaime looked up from a file in front of him, surprised to see his newest and most promising captain still standing before him.

"Ah, Itachi. Was there something else you needed?"

At this the young boy set the mask baring a feline visage down on the sturdy mahogany desk of the Hokage.

"I'd like to request a specification of my ANBU mask, Hokage-sama."

A graying eyebrow rose in interest. "Is that so? And what would you like to change it to, Uchiha-san?"

"…a raven."

The Sandaime gave him a sagely nod. "Hmm, that's a good choice. Very suiting."

Itachi couldn't stop his eyes from widening a fraction of an inch in barely constrained alarm. He knew he was deserving of baring the bird's atrocious visage, but he hadn't expected the Hokage to think such of him as well…

Despite how brief the look of horror that flitted across the boy's face, the old man gave an amused chuckle.

"You know, Itachi, contrary to popular belief, the raven has been seen to represent knowledge and a great deal of clear-sightedness- good traits for an ANBU Captain to possess, wouldn't you agree?"

The younger man was silent; his dark eyes watched the renowned warrior before him, searching closely for any trace of deceit. Itachi had no idea why he felt the pull of mistrust; the older man had never been anything other then purely honest with him before.

It just seemed too far-fetched for such a dark bird to possess said hidden good qualities.

A small smile tinged with a bit of sadness made its way onto the Sandaime's face. "If you honestly thought anything less of yourself, Itachi, I have to say- you're selling yourself short."

xXx

It was only a week until Itachi was handed another high ranked mission for him and his squad to carry out. Itachi decided to set the departure time for later so all members of the squad could have dinner with their families before leaving. After all, no matter how good a shinobi was considered to be, there would always be the chance that they may not make it back.

When he joined his own family at the table, he was already dressed in his uniform; his ninjato rested beside the porcelain raven mask on the small wooden table just by the door.

The idle chatter was kept to a minimum that night. Itachi guessed it might be nervousness of his leave on his mother and little brother's part. As for his father- well, he had fully expected the man to comment on some aspect of his mission- or at least, his position as captain- as he had been since Itachi had received the title. However, the solemn man was silent, and didn't make eye contact with anyone else at the table.

When dinner was over, Sasuke gave his brother a quick hug for good luck, and then ran outside to practice his throwing shuriken so he could be 'the best' like his nii-san. Mikoto quickly called after him, reminding him he only had about another hour before dark.

As Itachi began to collect the dishes from the table, his father rose and threw one surreptitious glance at the table where Itachi's mask lay before quickly dismissing himself from the room.

The Uchiha prodigy watched his father's retreating back as he tried to decipher the man's behavior. If Itachi was reading his father right (which was a given; he was excellent at reading people), then the man apparently didn't approve of something.

And if Itachi had to guess, he would say Fugaku's lack of approval had something to do with his ANBU mask.

Mikoto only confirmed this when Itachi went to join her at the sink to deposit his armful of dirty dishes.

"It's nothing against you, dear. He just can't understand your choice in animal."

"Hn." Was the boy's response as he picked up an extra cloth and plunged a dirty plate into the mass of bubbles swarming in the sink.

Mikoto, in turn, gave her son a sheepish smile before continuing. "He sees a raven as an ill omen, and can't figure out why his son- the hope of the clan- would wish to bring such a thing upon his family."

Ah. So that was it. Itachi believed the bird to represent death, but he had meant for it to be directed towards the enemy. An ill omen, however, is felt by those tainted by its presence, and he could see why such a thought would not sit well with his father.

He hadn't thought of the creature in that way. Though… with what he had heard at the last clan meeting, he was beginning to feel as if there were anything ill to befall of the clan, it would be there own doing, not his.

But perhaps his father's interpretation was more fitting then he realized…

"He's a bit narrow-minded in that aspect though- your father is." Mikoto stopped her scrubbing to gaze out the small kitchen window before them. Itachi followed his mother's gaze to see a small round bird sitting on a branch in the tree. It wasn't a raven by any means- just an ordinary sparrow. However, he supposed the mere presence of a bird was all his mother needed to get her thoughts across, and so he continued to watch it none-the-less.

"It's true that its role as a carrion links it to the idea of death, but if you watch closely, you would find that ravens have a tendency to defend and feed their older and weaker relatives."

Itachi's brow furrowed momentarily at the new information.

What was this…? Another little known positive trait revealed about an otherwise dark and ominous bird?

He was beginning to believe that people were making things up if only to keep their star shinobi in the spotlight.

Then again, if that were the case, Itachi figured his father would have been among the first to attempt to redeem his son in the eyes of others, as well as his own.

"In this regard, I think it was a very good choice for you. In the end, it will be you who defends the pride and honor of the family. And you definitely have a protective streak when it comes to Sasuke." Her small laugh was like the tinkering of bells, and Itachi's mouth quirked in a tiny smile of admittance.

xXx

If the young captain had known the countenance of his choice in mask would create such a high level of question and controversy, he may have re-thought changing it in the first place.

As it was, it seemed to be the topic of discussion even amongst his own team.

It was as well known fact that Itachi was not a man to do things without reason, and his comrades were determined to figure out exactly what this small move signified.

It had been more or less silent at the beginning of their journey- due primarily to pre-mission jitters- but as the mission progressed and was later declared a success, the travel home was considerably less then quiet.

Itachi gave an inaudible sigh behind his mask as he tuned in and out of the heated debate centered on him as it unfolded just a few feet behind him as if he were not there.

From what he could tell, the main argument centered around the theory that he chose a raven because he was so much like it; a plausible idea, as that was what most did. And they were right despite the fact that they gave entirely different comparisons of their likeness then Itachi's own initial idea.

He listened as one man- Taadaki, judging by the low tenor voice- insisted that it was because the Uchiha prodigy was crafty and intimidating like the black bird. Shisui quickly dismissed that theory, claiming whatever the reason, Itachi wouldn't pick a raven to highlight his good qualities like some power-tripping macho would (and at this, the lighthearted Uchiha gave the other man a playful shove before shooting him an accusing smirk). He expanded on this idea, saying that Itachi would pick something that represented him, but not necessarily in a good way. He provided the example of solitude and self-isolation as traits they both shared that Itachi would be willing to be associated with.

Kiyoshi- usually the most withdrawn of the three- piped up next, suggesting that perhaps it was their captain's dark sense of elegance and lethal grace that he shared with the bird. Shisui was quick to debunk this one as well.

"My god, Kiyoshi-"a quick chuckle- "you're not _actually_ comparing Itachi to some deranged ballerina, are you?" At this Taadaki joined Shisui in his laughter, before the two of them continued to facetiously expand on the ridiculous notion.

Meanwhile, Itachi was desperately trying to suppress rolling his eyes.

Did they believe him to be deaf?

After a while, thankfully, all conversation ceased as his team mates decided the energy was needed just to keep up with their captain's inhuman pace (which could be contributed to the fact that he was subconsciously trying to put as much distance between himself and the comrades who had dared to mention the word 'tutu' in the same sentence as his name).

Despite the relief he felt at the newfound silence, Itachi also realized the reason, and figured that he may be driving them a bit too hard considering the fierce battle they had fought in the early hours of the morning, as well as the fact that it was now pushing late evening.

The raven haired shinobi dropped down from his trail through the thick foliage of fire country to the shady forest floor, his team following suit.

"Take a 10 minute break for chakra restoration."

A full day of non-stop travel was a bit excessive even for him, and seeing how the mission had gone off without a hitch and they had- once again- completed it earlier then expected, Itachi figured they deserved at least that.

While his fellow masked shinobi took out their canteens or slumped against a tree trunk, Itachi shot off into the trees once more for a quick check of the premises.

The presence of a familiar chakra signature alerted him to the fact that he had been followed, and he quickly stopped on the nearest thick tree branch to give the man a chance to catch up.

Despite the mask, Itachi recognized the deep maroon coloring of hair to belong to his favorite cousin and self-proclaimed best friend.

"You're not running away from us, are you?" Shisui asked casually, one hand one his hip and the other raised with one finger up in a playfully accusing manner.

Itachi quirked a half-amused eyebrow- not that the other man could see it- and simply sat down on the thick tree branch as an answer.

Shisui crouched to join him.

"You know we were just kidding back there, right?"

"Hn."

"You don't have to worry; nobody truly thinks you're a gothic version of a beautiful ballerina." He chuckled at his own little joke. Itachi stayed silent.

Shisui cast a side-long glance at his young friend, vaguely wondering if they _had_ somehow offended him. He doubted it, as Itachi was never one to take things personally- or at all even. He would sooner turn his back in pure nonchalance then force-feed someone's own words back to them.

The shinobi of the mirage decided to play it safe, regardless.

"I honestly don't know a lot about ravens, but you apparently see something in them that you have found in yourself. So because of my lack of knowledge in the bird department, I would have to base my theories off of what I've seen of you and apply it to the raven. In that case," –here he paused to lightly finger the torn and bloodied fabric of the part of the ANBU vest just below Itachi's ribs- "from the way you dove into the path of those kunai just to watch my unsuspecting back, I'd have to say ravens must be pretty damn vigilant and watchful of their companions."

"That's not the way it works, Shisui." Itachi quickly lowered his arm to block his friend's access and keep him from worrying over the minor flesh wound.

"I also have the deductive capabilities necessary to analyze any situation in order to plan a countermeasure for any possible course of action, if needed. That doesn't mean a bird is capable of doing that as well."

"….You have deductive capabilities? Coulda fooled me."

Itachi raised his head and exhaled sharply, earning a hearty laugh from Shisui at the expense of his apparent frustration.

"Haha, come on, Captain. If we give those lazy jerks any more leisure time, they're likely to fall asleep on us." At this, Itachi took his friends outstretched hand, and the two made their way back to the rest of the team.

xXx

So many different ways such a bird could be interpreted; it was hard to find one solid answer to Kisame's question. True, Itachi's original intent was to construe the death that came with his being a shinobi.

But so much had happened since then.

Knowledge and clear sightedness- the Sandaime's interpretation- fit him so much more then it did before. After all, he was one of five people left alive in the entire world who knew the true reason behind the Uchiha massacre, as well as the events leading up to the fateful night. He was also one of the few who knew of Madara's presence in the current age, as well as the clan founder's role in the whole debacle.

His teammates were right in their own regard- one would have to contain a certain level of craftiness in order to pull a blanket of carefully placed illusions showing villainous and selfish intent over the eyes of their own village, as well as every country in the known world. Because of these delicately construed lies, Itachi had become quite the intimidating figure, even amongst other shinobi of extraordinary talent.

The circumstances leading up to that had forced him to become withdrawn and voluntarily isolated- if not to keep any of the truth from slipping, then simply to keep his sanity intact.

His father had been right when it came to him being an ill omen to the clan. It was obvious enough how that had played out. But his mother, too, had been right. He did have a strong sense of duty and affection for his family. Though this had not saved the rest of the clan, it _had_ saved the youngest of his immediate family. Itachi had practically begged on _hands_ and _knees_ for the Hokage to watch over and protect Sasuke when the double agent had found he could not kill his innocent brother. His affection had brought him back to Konoha five years later just to warn the council elders and Danzou with his mere presence that despite the death of the Sandaime, Itachi was still alive and kicking, and it would be prudent for them to continue keeping Sasuke safe.

It was his affection for Sasuke that made it easy to let go of his own image and reputation- to become the bad guy to his beloved village, and to- ultimately- die at the hands of his little brother so Sasuke could be seen as the hero of the story.

When he thought about it, the death that the raven represented to him was no longer that of enemies, but his own.

A breeze picked up and swept the silky obsidian feather off the hard wooden table and into the air; Itachi's vermillion eyes watched passively at its leave.

"The raven is a tragically misunderstood creature- an enigma in its own right."


End file.
